


A taste out for the dead

by velvetmornings



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Inevitable biting kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetmornings/pseuds/velvetmornings
Summary: Keith is a vampire and Shiro's the hunter.Hunger overcomes Keith in waves. When it comes it overtakes him, taking over his every thought till he can’t take it. Till the sound of drunken laughter is suddenly not that of unadulterated happiness, but of a blood bag too out of his own wits to know what hit him before Keith even bit into the skin of his throat.He rarely gives into the impulse.Lest he be discovered by the Hunter.





	A taste out for the dead

Hunger overcomes Keith in waves. When it comes it overtakes him, taking over his every thought till he can’t take it. Till the sound of drunken laughter is suddenly not that of unadulterated happiness, but of a blood bag too out of his own wits to know what hit him before Keith even bit into the skin of his throat.

He rarely gives into the impulse.

Lest he be discovered by the Hunter.

The upside of being Galra was that he had the advantage of being able to hide in plain sight. The downside was everything else.

Hot searing welded iron had carved the skin of Keith’s cheek raw until it bled. The scar adorned on his face now was the only evidence of his fight with the Hunter. But it also revealed him to his chosen human prey.

“Vampire. Ah! But not even the scary-type you’re Galra scum.”

The man had turned in Keith’s grip and spat. Keith had twisted the man’s neck so hard he heard a crack. After feeding, he made a point to rip the man’s lips off his skull so he couldn’t insult Keith, even in death.

Being Galra meant you reaped all of the negatives of being a vampire but none of the perks. You were born into it, and you can scar and bleed and die. Immortality was a luxury only given to Alteans.

Keith was glad for it though because for the (mortal) life of him, he didn’t want to be associated with Altean vampires. They were entitled bastards who thought they were owed the world just for endowing glowing crescent marks under their eyes. It didn’t help that those who spited them were outlived by them anyway.

Lance had thought he’d struck gold by impersonating an Altean, or rather lazily carve crescent scars into the skin of his cheeks and hoping no one would notice.

He spent more time explaining them away than actually putting them to good use.

Keith, on the other hand, had to seize every moment if it meant he would live. And presently, he was being disturbed.

It was a man veiled in shadow. A silhouette of a trench coat and clipped heeled boots. He was too far away from the street lamp to reveal a face, only a frock of bleached, blond hair distinguishable in the darkness.

A singular, silver dagger was removed from the inside of the man’s bellowing trench coat. He unceremoniously knocks the tip of it against the brick wall. A threat.

A growl rips through Keith till his teeth chatter.

“What do you want?” Keith says. He was hunting and on edge. Condensation released in puffs around the stranger’s face, an indication the assailant was mortal. And possibly Keith’s next target.

“You,” the stranger replies. Maybe in any other moment, that response would’ve sent a pulse through Keith straight to his groin. But he is slammed against the brick, the impact reverberating through his skull.

The silver dagger is pressed against his jaw, burning Keith on contact. _Blessed. _

The stranger’s forearm spans the length of Keith’s chest, pinning him there. A bright, pink scar glimmering on the bridge of the man’s nose.

“Takashi Shirogane,” Keith whispers, his lips quirking up in a smirk. “Nice to finally see you again.”

Like clockwork, his back arches to meet him. Keith’s wrists scrapes against the brick behind him, and his nostrils fill with the smell of iron and cologne. His lips tentatively meet the skin of Shiro’s neck where his pulse is the strongest.

Shiro shifts where their skin meets and it sends a groan through Keith.

“What are you waiting for?” Shiro says. “Take me.”

He bites.


End file.
